Nothing Else Matters
by SundayWinterChild
Summary: The Courier has been busy putting herself in the middle of of the affairs of the Mojave and all eyes on her. Especially the eyes of a particular Frumentarii... F!Courier x Vulpes. Rated M for violence and dubcon.
1. Chapter 1

For weeks now, Vulpes had been wandering the Mojave, watching, observing, and learning. It was his role, after all, as head of the Frumentarii to learn all that he could about Caesar's possible enemies... or allies. At least this is what Vulpes had repeatedly told himself until it had become palatable and somewhat believable. Truth of the matter, however, if he were honest with himself, was that there was far more to his actions than mere reconnaissance.

It had all started at Nipton. Even now, as Vulpes sat in a dilapidated building so that he might be hidden from view, he closed his eyes and recalled that disgraceful and sinful place. He could hear the moans and pleas for mercy from those who'd been crucified. He could smell the acrid smoke that had hung in the air and made his eyes sting. If he really allowed himself to lose himself in his memories, he could almost swear that he could taste the coppery tang of the blood that had been spilt.

Under Vulpes' direction, Nipton had been subjected to the justice that only the Legion could bring to the Mojave. Most outsiders would look upon Nipton's main thoroughfare lined with the crucified dissolute, the heads on pikes and the pyres with horror and declare them acts of the most atrocious nature.  
How little they understood.

If they could only look beyond the bloodshed they would understand the reasons why it had to be this way. Nipton did not build up or edify anyone. It didn't offer any real commodity or opportunity for trade. The only purpose that Nipton served was to satisfy the base desires of those who were willing to pay. With a siren song, the town lured fools to partake in debauchery with its tired whores in exchange for a handful of caps. It pained Vulpes to admit that there were men of the Legion who had fallen to the supposed charms of Nipton, but they had been dealt with in an appropriate fashion. Of course, when given the option of crucifixion or suicide, all had opted for the latter.

The lottery had been a success, not that it would have been anything but that. There would only be one true winner, of course, in spite of what the idiot Swanick might have thought. He was only the winner in a technical sense. True, the luck of the draw had spared his life, but that was all it was. He'd had every chance to have been one of the unfortunate ones that had been beheaded, crucified or burned alive. If Vulpes had had his way, no one would have been spared, but the lottery demanded a winner, if only because it was necessary. The winner had an important role to play, whether they realized that or not. What good would it do to make an example of Nipton and have no one to tell the tale?

So while Swanick dashed away thankful to be leaving this place of death with life and limb intact and shouting that he was the winner, Vulpes knew the truth. The real winner of the lottery had, in fact, been Caesar. Vulpes knew that Swanick would spread the news of what had transpired here. He likened his actions here to throwing a stone into a pond. The area where the rock hit the water was turbulent, but that faded quickly. The ripples, however, would slowly spread across the surface of the water. And in a similar fashion, from a single person, fear of the Legion would spread.

Now standing on the steps of the Nipton town hall, Vulpes looked around and took great pride in his handiwork. Already the vultures and other birds of prey were gathering, ready to eat their fill and pick over the corpses. Vulpes watched in amusement as a crow landed on the shoulder of one of the crucified Powder Gangers so that it might pluck the man's eye from its socket. The man had weakly groaned, unable to do much more than that although the pain of it must have been excruciating.

Satisfied that their work was done, Vulpes prepared to give the order to leave Nipton but something caught his keen eye.

At the end of the road was a woman, although this in and of itself was nothing remarkable. People would eventually happen across the remains of Nipton. However Vulpes was interested to see what her reaction to the carnage would be. Remaining where he was, he watched, his sharp eyes taking in her every move.

She would pause beside every cross, look up at its occupant and move on. Never once did she flinch or look horrified. This, above all else, intrigued Vulpes greatly. He waited for her to approach him and only when she was at the foot of the steps did he finally close the gap between them.

For a brief moment their eyes met, although it was difficult with him wearing such dark sunglasses. But in spite of that, something unspoken passed between them and Vulpes was unable to say what it was. All he did know was that it had unsettled him slightly. Quickly brushing that aside, Vulpes, being the calculating man that he was, knew that he would be able to use this woman.

He offered her a small disingenuous smile that never touched his cold eyes.

"How fortuitous it is that you have arrived," Vulpes said in his soft voice.

The woman's eyebrows rose slightly. She certainly hadn't expected that. What she'd been expecting was a gruff order for her to be killed on sight. Even more surprising was how soft spoken he was. It was far from pleasant though. There was an oily quality to everything he said.

She shrugged, "It depends on your point of view. If you intend on nailing me to a cross, it's not very fortuitous at all."

Bemusement flashed in Vulpes' eyes this time and he said, "I have no intention of crucifying you." He took a step closer to her, invading her personal space just to see what she would do. "You have far greater worth to the Legion alive than dead."

"Is that so?" The woman smirked and stood her ground. Mirthlessly she quipped, "I'm afraid I'd make a terrible slave."

Vulpes gave her an obvious once over, admiring her form. Although enslaving her hadn't crossed his mind until she'd mentioned it, he decided against it, although it was tempting.

"Even the most wilful and recalcitrant of captures can be trained with the proper... motivation." He brought a hand up to briefly twirl a lock of her blonde hair around his finger, "And while you would prove to be a most alluring and amusing diversion, that is not what I have planned for you."

The woman stepped back and nervously tucked her hair behind her ears. From the moment she walked into town and saw the Legion flags and the crosses she knew that she was in a dangerous position. Even when the Legionaries had not attacked her on sight, she still knew better than to let her guard down.

Now this man was giving her _that_ look. It was the look that she would get from men in seedy bars who wouldn't give a second thought about dragging her into a dark alley and doing unspeakable things to her. Not liking the look in the man's eyes she regarded him as she would a giant Radscorpion that was about to attack.

She asked, "Who are you?"

"I am Vulpes Inculta, the head of Caesar's Frumentarii," he smoothly replied and gave her another self satisfied smirk. "And you are?"

"I'm... just a courier," she answered. It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him her true name, but she decided against it at the last second.

Vulpes' eyes narrowed and his smile died somewhat, but her name was irrelevant to his needs.

"Very well... Courier." He motioned around him, "You are to remember what you see before you. Commit every detail, every sight, every sound to memory. And when you are asked about the fate of Nipton you can tell the profligates and dissolute of the Mojave of lessons of Nipton."

The Courier's eyes briefly darted around before returning to Vulpes. She daren't look away from him for long lest he decided to take advantage of it.

"And what exactly are the lessons you've taught?" she asked. "Because from where I'm standing, the only thing I've learned is that you guys are big on elaborate deaths." She nodded towards the crosses.

Vulpes sighed dramatically, "For some reason I had hoped that you could understand what happened here. Alas, I was obviously wrong. I shall make this as simple as possible. Nipton was guilty of certain crimes. The Legion saw fit to punish the people here and wipe Nipton from the map. Mark my words, Courier, this shall be the fate of many a settlement when Caesar's Legion marches over the Mojave."

Looking around again, the Courier frowned. If this is what the Legion wanted to do, then the Mojave was in grave danger. However, she was only one woman against a handful of highly skilled and battle hardened warriors and there was no way that she could do anything to stop them. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, the Courier turned back to Vulpes and said, "I admire the purity of the Legion's actions."

The ghost of some emotion flitted across Vulpes' face before his usual mask fell into place again.

"You have learned well. Now go, spread the news of the Legion to all whose path you cross," Vulpes said with a smirk.

And with that, he motioned for his men to follow him and they made their way out of the burning ruins of Nipton. Vulpes was sure he could feel the heat of the Courier's gaze on his back. Knowing that she was watching him made him feel as if fire were coursing through his veins.

Vulpes sighed at the memory of that day. Nipton had been a triumph and the Courier had performed her task admirably. It wasn't long before word of the Legion's incursion west of the Colorado River was being spoken of widely amongst the inhabitants of the Mojave Wasteland and the NCR.

However, upon his return to Fortification hill, Vulpes was irritated to find that his thoughts often went back to the Courier, whether he wanted them to or not. During quiet moments when he'd allow his thoughts to drift, he might begin thinking of one thing only to find that he was again thinking of the Courier. What was it about this woman that had captured his interest? As women went, she wasn't necessarily the most beautiful he'd ever seen, but she wasn't exactly unpleasant to look at either.

Vulpes knew that he should be repulsed by the Courier. For one thing, she dared to take on work fit only for a man. Women were weak creatures suited only for the tasks of bearing children and pleasing their husbands. Vulpes felt certain that the Courier was undoubtedly no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh. She was a profligate, after all, and such women were usually common whores, willing to submit themselves to any man who might ply them with alcohol and fed them a line of flattery.

Late at night as the camp quieted and settled to sleep and Vulpes was alone in his tent, he found himself imagining the Courier writhing in ecstasy beneath some sweating pig of a man who clumsily pawed at her. Much to his disgust, the thought of her being taken roughly sent an electric thrill through him. He could practically see her back arching and hear her breath hitch. A sheen of sweat covered her satin skin, a bead of it rolling down her throat to gather in the delectable dip between her clavicles.

And that was when this fantasy changed. No longer was she being savaged by some faceless lover as Vulpes watched on. Instead it was Vulpes who had forcefully pinned her to the bed. She mewled and called out his name when he bowed his head and pressed his lips to her throat to claim it with hungry kisses. They moved together, limbs entwined and their bodies growing slick from their efforts until they could not continue any longer.

Vulpes shivered as he felt white hot pleasure surge through him. The high of his climax had momentarily made all of his senses sharper than usual but those sensations gradually dulled and left him feeling spent and tired. In that moment Vulpes knew that he had to turn fantasy into reality.

He had to have the Courier for himself no matter what.

Early the next day, before the sun had kissed the eastern horizon with its shades of pink and purple, Vulpes arose and made his preparations. This was to be a solitary task, but Vulpes didn't mind. In fact he often relished missions that required him to act as a sole agent. The camp at Fortification Hill was crowded and there was little to no privacy. Vulpes would tolerate the other Legionaries, but he found their often crude behaviour and humour tiresome after a while.

Taking only the barest of essentials with him, Vulpes left the Fort and made his way back to the Mojave Wasteland. Of course he realized that finding a single courier in a large desert would be practically impossible, but he was clever and patient. All he needed was a single lead. Working diligently, Vulpes had managed to track the Courier down within a few days with the help of news reports of her actions across the Mojave. Since then he'd been tailing her and her companions, gleaning what he could from their actions.

Sometimes he played a game with himself to see how close he could get before they became suspicious. On a few occasions he would allow the Courier to catch a glimpse of him only to fade into the shadows again. She would jump or gasp at the sight of him and when asked by one of her friends what the matter was, the Courier would nervously laugh and say that she'd mistaken a desert plant or a rock for someone following them.

Vulpes' greatest triumph had been the night that he'd actually managed to infiltrate their camp in spite of there being someone on watch. He made a mental note to tell the Courier that it was never wise to leave a drunken woman in charge of something as important as security. As it was, the woman with the cowboy hat (Cass, he had heard one of the others call her) had eventually passed out and Vulpes made his move.

Silently he slipped into the Courier's tent to find her laying on her bedroll, nestled under blankets to fight of the chill of the desert night. He listened to her quiet snoring for a moment and studied her peaceful face. A hesitant hand reached out to touch her golden hair, to feel its silken strands slip over his fingers again. The desire to touch her had nearly been overwhelming, but Vulpes knew that it would be foolish to risk waking her. Instead he settled for stealing the bandana that she used to tie her hair back and then disappeared into the night.

That had been two weeks ago and in that time Vulpes had learned a great deal more about the Courier. In fact, he'd learned that she was not 'just a courier' as she had proclaimed. She was _The Courier_. Whether she liked it or not, she was quickly becoming integral to events that were looming on the horizon. This only made Vulpes' work even more important. For her to side with anyone but the Legion would be damning.

Taking out the bandana that he'd pilfered from her, Vulpes held it in his hands before burying his face in it and breathing deeply. Her scent lingered, although it was beginning to fade now. It was a mix of dry desert dust, sweat and the spiciness of campfire smoke. To Vulpes it was the sweetest scent ever and he longed to be able to get it from the source, but for now he could do nothing but bide his time.

Peeking out of a windowless window, Vulpes observed the camp that the Courier and her companions had set up for the evening. He'd hoped to catch a glimpse of her in the full moonlight that shone down on the desert, but he was disappointed to find that she wasn't seated with the others who were staring forlornly into the sputtering fire.

Straining his ears, Vulpes tried to listen to what was being said, but only caught the occasional word here and there. It wasn't enough to even catch the gist of their discussion. Frustrated, Vulpes' eyes searched the camp as he wondered where the Courier was.

"Where are you off to?" grunted the man wearing the red beret. Vulpes had learned that the man was named Boone. He was a former NCR soldier who had served with the First Recon Battalion and, from what Vulpes could tell, he had a bit of a deathwish.

The Courier pointed to a building that was intact, for the most part. There were gaping holes in the upper floor that would make it easy to use as a lookout.

"I'm going to go up there and make sure no one's sneaking up on us, okay?"

Vulpes' heart leapt into his throat. That was the voice of the Courier and it sounded as if she were approaching his location. Quietly he cursed himself. He'd gotten complacent and far too bold and was now in danger of being discovered.

"You should stay here," Boone warned.

The Courier sighed, "Boone we've all been travelling together for days now. I need a break, okay?"

"... Fine," Boone reluctantly agreed. "Take your gun."

The Courier laughed and patted the 9mm at her hip, "As always."

Vulpes had barely gathered his meagre possessions into his pack when the sound of her boots crunching over the rubble strewn floor and then up the stairs made him freeze. Escape was definitely out of the question now. With the fight or flight instincts that the Legion had drummed into him screaming, Vulpes looked about the room deciding what to do.

In a fluid movement, Vulpes slinked into the shadows next to the steps. His nerves and muscles were singing with the adrenaline that was flooding his body. With every passing moment she drew closer. He was still uncertain as to what he would do once she was here, but he knew that he couldn't allow her to reveal his presence.

The Courier climbed the last few steps...

As soon as she had emerged from the stairwell, Vulpes pounced and grabbed her, one hand covering her mouth. His other arm slinked around her and held her tight against his chest.

The Courier let out a frightened and surprised shriek that was muffled by Vulpes' hand and she violently bucked against him. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant sensation, but he knew that he had to get her under control or their scuffling would eventually draw unwanted attention.

Quietly muttering against her ear, Vulpes said, "So Courier, we meet again."


	2. Chapter 2

"So Courier, we meet again."

That oily purr in her ear instantly froze the blood in the Courier's veins and sent a shiver through her that Vulpes undoubtedly felt. Now the Courier was in two minds. She could continue to struggle against him, but she was certain that he would probably enjoy that. Instead, she remained still, although her muscles were tensed to let him know that she was not happy with this situation. This only elicited a low chuckle from him in her ear; his breath hot on her neck turned her stomach. Vulpes' hand quickly snatched her gun from the holster on her hip and threw it into a corner. Now that she was disarmed, Vulpes' grip on her tightened and pulled her closer to him.

Vulpes turned her head to look at him and he liked what he saw in her eyes. Oh yes, undoubtedly he saw fear there, and rightfully so, but just behind that he could see defiance. A smirk tugged at the corner of Vulpes' mouth and he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "If I release you, will you remain silent?"

Another wave of revulsion passed through the Courier as she felt his lips against her ear and she tried to turn her head away, but Vulpes had her in an iron grasp. Was this a trick? Did he really mean to let her go or was he merely toying with her?

"Well?" he prompted, shaking her slightly.

The Courier finally gave the slightest of nods and a grunt of assent.

It was Vulpes' turn to hesitate while he brazenly buried his face in her hair and took in her scent. Letting out a sigh he said, "Be warned that should you try to alert your companions, I will not hesitate to snap your neck." His hand drifted down to lightly wrap around her throat and he added, "That would be a pity as it is such a lovely neck."

It was more than the Courier could bear and she bucked against him only to find herself suddenly released from Vulpes' clutches. The forward momentum made her trip over her own two feet and crash into the wall opposite. Not wanting to have her back to Vulpes, she quickly spun around and pressed against the wall.

"Bastard!" she spat at him under her breath.

Vulpes was the very picture of arrogance with his arms crossed over his chest and a smug look on his face.

"I kept my word, did I not? You can hardly blame me if you lack any grace." Vulpes took a few steps towards the Courier, giving her another cold smile. "Perhaps your friend Cass has been plying you with alcohol?"

At first the Courier's face twisted with indignant anger, but then there was a sudden gasp of surprise and the look of fear returned. The only way he could know so much was if he'd been following them.

"How long have you been following us?" she demanded.

"How long do you think I've been shadowing you?" Vulpes countered. He was truly interested in knowing how long she'd suspected they were being tailed.

"I don't know, do I?" she replied, raking a hand through her hair. Vulpes couldn't help but notice the scar on her forehead from where she'd been shot.

"You're lying, Courier," he drawled and stepped closer.

Her eyes darted around the room while she wracked her brain, muttering under her breath, "We left the Strip five days ago... Someone would surely have noticed..."

"Oh, Courier... Why do you play these games with me?" Vulpes asked and quickly closed the gap, trapping her between himself and the wall. A hesitant hand reached up to brush the hair from her forehead.

"Stop it!" she hissed and turned her head away, but that didn't deter him.

"Tsk, tsk," he scolded and tucked the messy locks behind her ear before lightly tracing over the outline of the bullet scar.

"You knew days ago that someone was following you, yet you said nothing," he coolly said.

"I... didn't know it was you," she lied. Her eyes refused to meet his.

Vulpes quietly chuckled and gave her a tight lipped smile before grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him.

"Do you remember when we first met?" he asked as if they were sharing fond remembrances. "You said that you would make a poor slave."

The Courier had a terrible sinking feeling and nodded, "I remember."

Vulpes gave her half a smile and continued, "At the time you served a purpose - a purpose, I might add, that you fulfilled when you spread word of what happened at Nipton. Perhaps now, however, I should take you to Fortification Hill. Perhaps I should mark you with the red X of a slave," he asked while his finger slowly traced an X over her heart. The fact that her breathing quickened at his touch pleased him.

Leaning in he whispered, "And then... I would cut out your tongue as punishment for lying to me."

The Courier's eyes went wide with fear and she hissed, "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" Vulpes purred.

For a long moment they stared at each other, Vulpes just biding his time until she finally gave in. She would, eventually; he would make sure of that one way or the other.

Gulping, the Courier silently cursed herself. Vulpes' intense blue eyes bearing down on her was more than she could stand and so she quietly admitted, "I knew it the second day. I saw you lurking in the shadows of a ruined building. I didn't say anything because... I thought I was imagining things." She looked away, her voice dropping so low that it was almost to hear over the mournful wind that whistled through the building. "They think that... the bullet to my brain messed me up more than anyone thinks. They talk about me when they think I'm asleep." Slouching against the wall, she added, "I have blackouts and there are times when I can't remember anything. It's just a big blank. It drives me, well... crazy, for lack of a better word."

Vulpes' eyebrow arched at what she had revealed. It certainly was something that bore consideration in the future; her weakness could be used to their advantage.

"Others have questioned my sanity on occasion," he said thoughtfully while a distant look settled over his features.

"After what you did in Nipton, I don't think there's much of a question there, do you?" the Courier asked with a weak chuckle and tried to slip away from Vulpes.

This, however, was a bad idea and he shoved her back against the wall and glowered down at her.

"That day you said you admired the purity of the Legion's actions. Yet _another_ lie from you. I'm starting to believe that cutting out your tongue would be for the best," Vulpes said in his cold, matter-of-fact way.

"Goddamn it... what did you expect me to say!?" she asked, her voice rising more than she'd intended. "I was clearly outnumbered! How stupid would it have been to tell you that I thought you were fucking insane? For all I knew you would have nailed me to one of those crosses... or worse!"

"Hey! You alright up there?" Boone shouted up from the ground. He'd been certain he'd heard the Courier talking to herself, which wasn't anything new, but with the way she'd been lately, Boone didn't want to leave it to chance.

Both Vulpes' and the Courier's eyes grew large and he shoved her over to a window, hissing in her ear, "Make him leave, now!"

Trying to calm herself, she leaned out the opening and waved down to Boone, forcing a smile. "Yeah, everything's fine!" she said cheerily.

Boone crossed his arms over his chest as he stared up at her. Something about her demeanour was forced and put him on edge.

"I think I'll come up with you and keep watch, too," he said and started for the building.

The Courier's heart leapt into her throat. Boone's hatred of the Legion was no secret and if he came up here and caught her with Vulpes, it would likely end up a blood bath. Thinking quickly, she shouted down, "Wait! Could you bring a blanket with you? It's cold up here. Oh, and could you bring me my canteen?"

Boone stopped and again looked up at her for a moment trying to decide whether she was stalling him or if she genuinely was cold and thirsty.

"Please, Boon?" she asked and flashed him a sweet smile.

"Fine," he grunted and turned away.

The Courier stepped back from the window only to run into Vulpes. His rough hands gripped her shoulders and spun her around to face him. There was an oddly appreciative look on his face.

"Perhaps I'll let you keep your lying tongue for now," he said, tipping her chin up with a finger.

"You need to leave here now," she said, jerking her chin away. "Boone has a shoot on sight policy when it comes to the Legion."

Vulpes chuckled, "Yes, I know. I suspect it stems from... well, I'm sure he'll tell you eventually."

The sound of Boone's footsteps approaching was Vulpes' signal to make his final escape, but before he left, he found himself unable to resist the impulse to kiss the Courier. It had been something that had been playing on his mind since they first met, haunting his thoughts and his dreams. He moved quickly, his hands cradling her head and pulled her in for a deep kiss.

She protested, obviously, and after the initial shock of it, she slapped him with as much strength she could muster and shoved him away.

"Go now!" she spat and scrubbed her mouth with the back of her hand.

Vulpes quietly laughed, ignoring his stinging cheek; he'd experienced far worse than that to really even pay it any attention. His usually cold eyes now shone with a frightening passion that made her step back from him.

Giving her one last smirk, he said, "Know that I will be watching you closely, Courier. Our paths _will_ cross again."

With that, Vulpes gracefully leapt from an upper storey window onto a pile of rubble and fled off into the night.

Now with him gone, the adrenaline that had been coursing through the Courier's veins left her quivering. Without thinking twice, she grabbed her gun and put it back in its holster and rushed over to the window that Vulpes had just escaped from to see that he was already out of sight.

She rested her head against the window frame and breathed, "Fucking asshole."

But she knew Vulpes was right; one day they would come face to face again. The war was far from over and the thought that Vulpes' Frumentarii were lurking around every corner and over every hill sent another chill through her.

Movement on a distant hill caught her eye and she knew who it was. Her hands tightly clutched the rotting windowsill, turning the wood to dust.

Quietly she said into the night, "Yes, Vulpes. We will meet again. And I'll be ready for you next time."


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere in the dark penthouse a delicate mantel clock chimed midnight, its dainty bells playing some forgotten tune before it struck the hour. It was a pre-war trinket with an enamelled face and gilded cherubs under a glass dome. The open sides and back allowed a peek at the fragile cogs that somehow had remained intact in spite of nuclear Armageddon.

It had been one of the first things the Courier had purchased with her new found fortune and it had pride of place on her bedside table. Nearly every night before she went to bed, the Courier removed the glass dome and carefully wound it up with its key. There was something that she had found soothing about the barely audible steady ticking of it. In fact, on sleepless nights the sound of the clock would often help send her off to sleep.

Vulpes, however, had learned to despise the little clock.

From his place in the air duct, the ticking sounded more like hammering and it pounded, pounded, pounded away in his head, making him acutely aware of just how long he had been waiting here. Hour after hour had passed and that wretched clock seemed to mock him every time it played its music.

Leaning his head against the cool metal of the duct, Vulpes closed his eyes and thought back to earlier in the evening so he could try and ignore the pain of having been in this cramped space for so long. From where he sat, he had caught infuriatingly tantalizing glimpses of the Courier through the grate. Brief flashes of bare skin still wet from a hot bath, her just washed hair sending rivulets of water down her back. Stockings carefully rolled up her shapely legs. A daring red dress, her back revealed and a split up to her thigh. The scent of perfume that had been dabbed on wrists, neck and between her breasts had drifted up to him like some maddening incense offered to some long dead god.

It had taken every ounce of patience and self control that Vulpes had to remain where he had secreted himself. A lesser man would have undoubtedly pounced upon her, ravishing her, unable to control the rising tide of need and desire that the Courier had unwittingly unleashed. But Vulpes was not a lesser man and this was not the first time he'd found himself in this position.

In fact, he'd quite lost track how often it happened over the last year.

The dull wanton ache he felt low in his belly and the horrendous little clock marking the half hour roused him from his thoughts. Very carefully he removed the grate from the duct and with all the grace of a cat he dropped into the room, silent as a shadow. Crouching low, his eyes scanned the room looking for anything untoward before he moved.

It was dangerous being here, he knew that, but it was worth the risk just to be near to _her_.

Quietly padding through the bedroom, Vulpes' hand glided over the dresses in her wardrobe. Silks, satins, velvets... Only the best for the Courier now that she was in a position of power, but there was something about seeing her in worn out leather that had always appealed more to Vulpes. And, to hear the Courier complain about it, she preferred her former wardrobe as well if for far different reasons.

On the shelves that used to hold dusty tomes dedicated to old world technology, the Courier had cleared space for keepsakes that she'd acquired in her travels over the Mojave. Most of them made no sense to Vulpes as he had no point of reference, but it was obvious in that they meant a great deal to the Courier. From his place in the duct, he often spied her picking them up and caressing them with a wistful smile on her face. They were nonsensical things such as snow globes, miniature Dinky the Dinosaurs, glowing rockets, and hula girls that would swing their hips when touched.

Vulpes picked up the snow globe of Hoover Dam and flicked his wrist to watch the snow swirl and settle. He scowled at it; it was a decidedly stupid and pointless thing. And although he would love nothing more than to smash it, he placed it back exactly where it had been with the utmost care so it wasn't obvious that it had been disturbed.

It was this kind of attention to detail that had allowed Vulpes to lurk here for so long without arousing suspicion, but there were times when he was unable to help himself.

A missing t-shirt, a misplaced hairbrush, an old bandana, and the Courier's worn out denim jacket had magically disappeared from her suite. She'd searched high and low for these and other items that had been pilfered, but never had been able to find them. Vexed, she had merely chalked it up to the memory troubles she suffered from since Benny had shot her. For Vulpes these little treasures were as close as he could get to her for the time being and he cherished them much as the Courier treasured her snow globes.

Now forgetting himself, Vulpes brazenly stretched out on the Courier's bed and buried his face in her pillow, breathing in deeply and remembering all the times he'd watched her sleeping. He could only watch her from a distance most of the time, but there were rare occasions that allowed him to be bolder than usual. Sometimes she would come home so drunk that she could hardly stand and would usually pass out. While Vulpes found her drunkenness disgusting, it served a purpose.

When he felt certain she was out cold, he would emerge from his hiding place and creep over to her. Most of the time he would just stand over her, watching her sleep and listen to her steady breathing. Other times he might go further and risk running his fingers through her hair or brush a knuckle along her cheek.

At his bravest, when the Courier had happened to be at her drunkest and passed out at the foot of the stairs, Vulpes had dared to pick her up and carry her to bed. Thinking quickly, he had grabbed the 1st Recon red beret she kept on a shelf and slapped it on. For one heart stopping moment, the Courier had stirred, her eyes blearily focussing on him before she broke into a wide smile.

"Boone!" she had happily exclaimed. Throwing her arms around Vulpes' neck, she nuzzled against him and murmured, "I've been missing you."

After that, she had passed out completely, which Vulpes was thankful for. He had laid her on the bed, removed her shoes and then dared to kiss her even though she reeked of booze. Lazily, he tongued her lips and explored her mouth, ignoring the taste of wine that he found there. When there was no reaction from her, Vulpes grew braver still and lightly rested a hand on her breast, his thumb idly teasing her nipple.

For one fevered moment, Vulpes wondered just how far he could go before rousing her. Even if he did chance it, if he remained silent and kept the beret on, would her level of inebriation cause her to mistake him for the moronic NCR sniper? And what if she recognized him for who he truly was?

Her hand touching his cheek and a soft moan against his lips brought Vulpes back to his senses and he quickly retreated to the ventilation ducts before she fully came to. While he put the grate back in place he could hear her mumbling something about Boone and sounding terribly disappointed.

Rolling onto his back, Vulpes scowled up at the ceiling as he thought of just how close he'd come to having her. It was sheer torment, if he were honest with himself, to be able to do little more than watch her night after night, especially in some of her more intimate moments.

Occasionally she brought men back to her suite and without much pomp or ceremony, they would fuck. On those nights Vulpes could only sit there and seethe while listening to them. He felt anger at the Courier for sullying herself, but there was an impenetrable black fog that would come over him when he thought about the Courier's lovers.

All of them were dissolute and seemed to have no idea who she was or what she had done. All they cared about was their own pleasure and pawed at her without any thought or respect. Vulpes, of course, was completely blind to the irony in his thinking.

Instead, he became acutely aware that the Courier was ignorant to the fact that she'd brought more than one former Legionnaire to her bed. It was this that prompted him to act as her protector and ensure that none of these men ever sought the Courier's embrace again.

Because of Vulpes, most of them never saw the light of day again, much less left the Lucky 38.

Vulpes would lie in wait for them, hiding on top of the elevator car. Once moving, he would silently open the access panel and attack. Sometimes, if he particularly hated them, he would garrotte them. It was a slower death, one that gave the victim a chance to see their killer. In other words, this was reserved for former Legionaries. He enjoyed seeing the shock of recognition in their eyes followed by abject fear.

For others, he took the greatest of pleasure in snapping their necks. It was quick, simple and clean. Once he was certain they were dead, he would stop the elevator on a lower floor, drag the bodies to a disused hotel room and leave them there to rot. The only thing he found disappointing about it was that he had to keep to bloodless means of killing; a part of him so longed for something painful and messy. He truly missed a good a crucifixion.

The thought of the Courier in the throes of passion, however, brought forth other memories. Vulpes closed his eyes, desperately trying to banish the images that flashed in his brain of the Courier's hands roaming over her naked body before drifting lower, a finger circling her navel, and finally plunging into the cleft between her legs. The whimpering sounds she made, the way her back arched as her pleasure reached its peak, her crying out – swearing, even – was unbearable to him. On those nights, Vulpes had been unable to contain himself and quietly he would finish himself off, biting on his bottom lip to stifle any sound he might make.

And when the euphoria wore off and his head had cleared, it was in those moments that Vulpes hated himself the most for what he'd become.

He'd once been the greatest of Caesar's frumentarii, his very name striking fear into those who knew of the things he had done. It wasn't that long ago that Vulpes wouldn't have thought twice about taking what he wanted. The Courier would have been his and he would have broken her time and time again, mercilessly, without remorse. But now he had become a ghost of his former self, and this was as literal as it was figurative. He slept during the day and only ventured out at night to hide in shadows. The Courier went about her business as if he weren't there, and as far as she knew, he wasn't.

Vulpes growled, pressing his hands against his eyes in an effort to try and make the thoughts in his head go away. There were times when being in the Courier's inner sanctum was overwhelming making Vulpes feel claustrophobic, which he was feeling acutely now. Reminding himself that he had far more practical reasons for coming here this evening, he leapt to his feet and straightened the sheets and blankets of the bed before fluffing the pillows for good measure.

Crossing the expanse of the open living room, Vulpes couldn't help but feel his skin crawl while passing the massive terminal that dominated the room. He felt certain he was being watched, but after a year his incursions into the Courier's domain had not prompted any attack or even an alarm. It was something that he still found unsettling after all this time. By all accounts, the defences of the Lucky 38 were practically legendary across the Mojave, yet he had managed to waltz in through the front doors quite freely.

Of course, it probably worked in his favour that all hell had broken loose at the Fort and Hoover Dam by then. Too many people had their eyes elsewhere and so they never seemed to even notice him.

After he'd arrived, Vulpes spent the next few weeks discovering the ins and outs of the tower and figuring out the best way to avoid any security. There were access tunnels, air ducts, maintenance passageways, service elevators, and stairwells that he had learned by heart. He planned his revenge carefully, imagining all the painful ways in which he was going to torture the Courier for taking away everything he'd held most dear.

As time went by, however, Vulpes' resolve had seemed to crumble in the face of his growing obsession for the Courier.

He watched as her former friends and companions slowly left one by one in the weeks after the war, leaving her so utterly alone and desolate. She had had been hit hardest by Boone leaving though. While Vulpes had no true concept of what love could possibly be, he had to concede that if the Courier loved anyone, it had been Boone. No sooner had the sniper left that the Courier had grabbed a bottle of whiskey and drowned her sorrows in it.

The Courier's obvious feelings for Boone had brought out a fierce jealousy in Vulpes. It was an emotion that he wasn't fully prepared for, nor did he understand it. Vulpes wanted, no, _needed_, the Courier to feel that way about him, but how that might happen, he had no idea. Considering how Vulpes had spent most of his life planning and preparing for all eventualities, to suddenly be at a loss was incredibly frustrating.

A year on and Vulpes felt that he knew as much about the Courier as anyone possibly could. He'd watched her trying to adjust to her new role as the leader of the Mojave. It had been a big change for her, a change that she still struggled with and as time went on the Courier was withdrawing into herself.

And as much as he hated it, as much as he didn't want to draw parallels between himself and the Courier, he found that he couldn't help it. There was something about her loss that resounded with Vulpes.

Now in the kitchen, Vulpes started to put bottles of water and food into the small sack he'd brought with him. This was how he'd managed since residing in the lower levels of the Lucky 38. Going out on the Strip was far too dangerous; someone out there might recognize him. Besides, the thought of being out in the open set Vulpes' heart to racing and a filled him with a sense of dread. No, he was safer hiding in the narrow passages and vents of the Lucky 38 and stealing rations from the Courier's own supplies.

Satisfied that he'd taken enough to survive on for a few days, Vulpes decided that it was time to make his exit. He'd already spent far longer in the Courier's penthouse than he had intended, but he'd been feeling rather nostalgic tonight. He turned to leave but the moon glinting off Lanius' helmet caught his attention. The Courier had put it on display along with the brute's sword as trophies.

Vulpes, forgetting his previous haste to leave, went over and picked up Lanius' sword, testing the weight and balance of it in his hand. The Blade of the East had been specially made for the former Legate by Caesar, which would most likely explain why it felt heavy and awkward to Vulpes.

Nonetheless, Vulpes wielded the sword, remembering exercises and drills from his youth that the trainers had made them do over and over until their muscles felt as if they were on fire. Any who dropped their training swords once were punished harshly; those who dropped them a second time were put to death. The message was clear: there was no room for weakness in the Legion.

Parrying with the sword, Vulpes grunted with the effort, quickly growing breathless. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and into his eye. It was disheartening, to say the least, that his stamina and strength had all but been sapped by his year-long confinement and a lack of martial training. He'd once been nearly unstoppable, pushing himself harder and further than most. Now he found a few simple exercises with a sword taxed him.

Disgusted with himself, Vulpes put the sword down and turned his attention to the helmet. It wasn't the first time he'd studied it, but he always felt drawn to it. He would look into the black, empty eyes of the mask waiting for Lanius' sepulchral voice to issue forth, but it never had. The Monster of the East was just as dead as the rest of them, thanks to the Courier.

Sometimes Vulpes was jealous of them for that.

Death had been something that he'd never feared. If anything, he'd been taught to welcome it. Legionaries led hard, short lives and for most death was a welcome release. Vulpes had been willing to lay his life down should Caesar demand it, but that moment never came. Instead, when the army of Securitrons attacked the Fort, Vulpes had somehow survived with little more than a bullet lodged in his thigh. Doing what he did best, Vulpes donned a disguise, taking the filthy rags of a slave that had been caught in the crossfire, and watched as his brothers in arms were cut down mercilessly.

The chaos of escaping slaves, rampaging Securitrons and mobilized Legionaries had given Vulpes the cover he needed to escape and make his way to the Strip to exact his revenge on the Courier. It had taken a few days before she returned to the Lucky 38, triumphant but weary and injured. One of the first things she did upon her arrival was to shed her filthy clothes and armour, stripping down to her underwear. After that, she wandered through the penthouse, Lanius' helmet tucked under her arm, until she found the perfect place to display her spoils of war.

Picking up the helmet, Vulpes smirked at it and wondered what the Legate's last thoughts were. He'd clearly underestimated the Courier, but in all truth nearly everyone had.

Vulpes clearly remembered the day that she'd come to the Fort, chasing down Benny. It was the first time that Vulpes truly realized the threat she posed, in fact.

Caesar had proposed a bit of a trade to the Courier. If she would go down to the bunker beneath Fortification Hill and destroy it, he would give her a gift – the gift of choosing Benny's fate. She had agreed and was immediately escorted to the entrance of the bunker and left to her own devices below.

She had returned to Caesar's tent within the hour, much to his delight, and when given the choice of what would happen to the Chairman, she'd never hesitated for a moment; she wanted to fight him in the arena. This brought more than a few derisive snorts and comments from those present and, even though she'd been giving the option, her choosing it gave Caesar pause. He leaned back in his throne, fingers steepled thoughtfully while he studied the Courier, before he finally gave her a succinct nod.

News spread quickly through the Fort of the showdown between the Courier and Benny and by the time they were ready to begin, there was a large crowd jostling for good vantage points. Upon Caesar's signal, battle commenced, raising a roar from those watching. Benny and the Courier started off circling each other, trash talking one another. There were plenty of cat calls and wolf whistles when the Courier decried Benny's distinct lack of ability in the bedroom which made him lunge for the Courier. After that, the gloves had come off and the pair of them went hell for leather against each other.

Vulpes had tried to maintain his usual air of detachedness, but he must have done something that piqued Caesar's interest. Caesar fixed his gaze on Vulpes before giving the spy a broad, wolfish grin.

"I gotta say, that bitch can fight!" Caesar exclaimed. "She's tough, too. Not many people can get shot in the head and walk away from it."

"Indeed," Vulpes replied, trying to sound unimpressed and folded his arms across his chest.

"I think..." Caesar began slowly, "when this war is over, I'll let Lanius have her as a reward. Imagine the little sons of bitches that'd make!" His eyes glittered over the thought of the demon spawn that pairing up his brute of a Legate with the tough-as-old-boots Courier could produce. They would be hardy warriors with the stature of their father, practically unstoppable and completely loyal to Caesar.

A nearly imperceptible twitch of Vulpes' eye let Caesar know he'd hit a nerve. He'd suspected that his head Frumentarii had developed an interest in the Courier, but this was the confirmation he was looking for.

"That's if she survived long enough to even become pregnant. Lanius is notorious for killing the women he beds," Vulpes drily replied.

Caesar chuckled at Vulpes' not so obvious disdain for the idea and returned his full attention back to the arena leaving Vulpes to stew with the thought of the Courier in the hands of Lanius.

Later, after the Courier had finally managed to sink her machete into Benny's guts and she'd gone on her way with the platinum chip, Vulpes had warned Caesar not to underestimate the woman. He'd tried to impress upon the Son of Mars how dangerous she possibly could be, the power she seemed to hold over people. Vulpes knew that she'd been quietly building alliances with several groups across the Mojave. But it had all gone unheeded.

Caesar learned the hard way that he should have paid more attention to Vulpes' warning when a Securitron emptied nearly a full magazine into his thick skull.

Closing his eyes, Vulpes remembered the sights and sounds and smells of that day and an odd smile came to his lips. Unfortunately for Vulpes, he'd become so lost in his memories that he was totally unaware that the elevator was now on the move. It wasn't until it arrived at the penthouse and let out a cheery ding that he realized his time was up.

Vulpes' heart was in his throat and panic had overtaken him and he quickly abandoned Lanius' helmet and started back towards the vent, but suddenly stopped. For a year he'd been hiding, lurking, watching and waiting and he'd had enough. Tonight he would finally reveal his presence to the Courier.

A hint of the old Vulpes had returned and standing a little taller, he waited instead of running.

The doors of the elevator had just opened and the Courier appeared looking disheartened and drained. She'd spent the evening in the company of the White Gloves yet again. It was another banquet held in her honour where she ended up listening to the same inane conversations while picking at her meal and wondering exactly where the chef had sourced his ingredients. She desperately wished that she were flanked by Arcade and Veronica instead of Marjorie and whoever else she had deemed important enough to be at the head table. At least Arcade and Veronica were witty and would have made the evening far more bearable with their humour.

Naturally the Courier had the choice to refuse Marjorie's invitations, but the offense it would cause would only lead to indignation which would lead to the White Gloves becoming belligerent in their own fashion. In other words, it just wasn't worth the hassle. And it wasn't just the White Gloves. She'd discovered that all of the families on the Strip had certain things that they disapproved of. It had taken months for the Courier to figure it out the steps of the dance, and even now she was still awkward and clumsy at it.

Angry and frustrated, the Courier kicked off her high heels, picked them up and with a growl threw them down the stairs.

"Arrogant bastards!" she shouted at no one in particular and started clumping down the stairs to go to the kitchen. She was badly in need of a drink, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed a figure moving in the shadows.

"Who's there?" she asked as she descended the stairs into the lower level of the penthouse.

"Ave, Courier," Vulpes purred and stepped into the moonlight, offering her a knowing smile. With sure strides he closed the gap between them. "You look lovely this evening," he said, his eyes raking over her body before he reached up to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen from the chignon at the nape of her neck.

"Oh fuck no..." she breathed and took a shambling step backwards. Vulpes noticed her hand instinctively reaching for the weapon she usually kept on her hip, only to discover it wasn't there.

"Perhaps you should rethink not wearing a weapon with your finery?" he thoughtfully suggested. "Although I must admit that I'm pleased you aren't armed. I have no wish to be shot tonight."

The Courier's eyes flicked towards Lanius' sword. It was almost half her height, but it might be her only chance. Or it would have been if Vulpes hadn't noticed and moved so that he stood between her and it.

"How the hell did you get in here?" she asked, and started sidling towards the kitchen, hoping to grab a knife from the kitchen, but she kept her eyes fixed on him.

Again, Vulpes followed her movement, blocking her path yet again. "I honestly don't think you would like the answer to that question, Courier," he replied with an enigmatic smile and took a tentative step towards her.

Without warning, the Courier broke off in the direction of the sword, with Vulpes in hot pursuit. While he may not have had the strength he once did, he still was every bit as fast. Before the Courier knew what was happening, Vulpes' hand closed around her upper arm, stopping her cold before whipping her around and pulling her against him.

"Let me go!" the Courier growled and tried to pull away.

"Stop!" Vulpes' fingers dug in, holding tighter, "I have no interest in hurting you!"

"Fucking liar!" the Courier spat back and started struggling again.

Growing impatient with her, Vulpes grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him and blurted out, "If I had wanted to hurt you I would have done so months ago!"

The Courier stopped fighting, her eyes going wide with the horror of recognition. "No... Oh God..." she breathed.

Vulpes nodded at her to silently give her confirmation of what she'd just concluded in her mind. Sensing that all the fight had just gone out of the Courier, he released her.

Stepping back and rubbing her jaw, the Courier sat on the arm of a nearby sofa and started to mutter under her breath. "The others wouldn't listen. When I didn't see you at the Fort, I knew you weren't dead. But they just _wouldn't listen_." The Courier let out a fragile laugh and shook her head in disbelief, "And you've been right under my nose _the whole time_! Fuck me..."

Vulpes merely smiled, "I told you that you wouldn't like the answer."

She glared at him. His glib answer made her want to punch him, but it also made her want to be sick.

"Believe me Courier, I wanted to kill you," he continued, freely admitting it. "I was going to make you suffer for taking everything I had ever known away from me."

Still in shock, the Courier tried to make sense of what Vulpes was saying and stared at him blankly. While she initially swore blind that Vulpes was still alive, there was never any indication either way. His remains hadn't been found at the Fort and there were no reports of sightings. In the end, after all this time, the Courier had started to believe that perhaps he was dead, or on his way back to Arizona with his tail between his legs.

"Why didn't you do it then?" she finally asked, although she wasn't quite sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Vulpes, however, instead of outright telling her his reasons, just met her gaze, his eyebrow rising ever so slightly.

"No... Oh no!" The Courier exclaimed, panic filling her heart again. Of all the things she didn't want in this world, having a psycho like Vulpes as her number one fan was probably at the top of the list.

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as she suddenly realized that there had been indications of Vulpes' interest in her all along.

There had been their encounter outside Boulder City, to begin with. It had been frightening and uncomfortable, but the Courier had never admitted to any of her friends what had happened that night.

After that came the invitation from Caesar delivered via Vulpes. He could have shoved the Mark of Caesar at her and been on his way, but he didn't. Instead he took his time about it and insisted that he put it on her himself, tying the leather thong around her neck and adjusting it so it would be obvious for all to see. Boone looked ready to explode at that moment and Arcade didn't seem to know where to look.

Even when she'd gone to the Fort, Vulpes could have sent any number of his men to escort her around the encampment, but he had done it himself. Then, after her time in the arena with Benny, he had taken her to Siri to be patched up and remained until he was satisfied with the slave's work.

Suddenly, the ridiculousness of the situation made the Courier crack and she burst out laughing, "You have got to be shitting me! I just can't... Fuck... I need a goddamned drink. A big one."

The Courier's reaction had not exactly been what Vulpes was expecting and he felt that old familiar rage flaring up in him that made him want to lash out violently against her. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his nails digging into the palms of his hands and drawing blood. Stalking after the Courier, he shouted, "They left you, Courier!"

The Courier stopped and wheeled around on him, a look of fury on her face.

"What!?" she growled.

"When you needed them most, they left you behind!" Vulpes said and rapidly approached her. "Even Boone left in the end! Your friends _abandoned_ you!"

The Courier shook her head, "Shut up! They had to go!"

"They left you alone when they had what they needed from you!" Vulpes exclaimed and dropped to his knees before the Courier, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face against her stomach. "But I'm still here, I've not left. In spite of everything, I am here."

It was perhaps the most surreal moment of the Courier's life, and that was saying something considering the things she'd seen and experienced since that fateful night when Benny shot her in the head. The Courier dumbly looked down at Vulpes who was nuzzling against her while his rough hands stroked the small of her back.

"They never could appreciate you. Not as I do," Vulpes muttered to her navel, sending a shiver through the Courier.

Hesitantly she rested her hands on his shoulders, prompting him to hold her more tightly.

"Vulpes..." she softly said, using the proper Latin pronunciation of his name and cradled his head in her hands.

He looked up at her, something strange and unreadable in his icy blue eyes.

"I'm yours to command, Courier," he said with conviction.

The Courier's thumbs stroked his cheeks before she extracted herself from his grasp. Vulpes reluctantly let her go and watched her closely as she went over to the window to look out over Vegas. It looked so beautiful from up here with its lights twinkling in the dark.

Sighing, she pressed her forehead against the glass and closed her eyes. This was such a dangerous position to be in, and she had no idea what to do next. The easy solution would be to put him down, to take a gun and put a bullet in his brain. He certainly deserved it considering his actions at Nipton alone. But there had been far too much blood spilled. The Courier's hands dripped with it and she just didn't have the stomach to carry out a summary execution.

Before she had too much of a chance to think things through, she felt his hands on her waist, making her jump in surprise. She'd never even heard him approach, which was a disturbing thought in and of itself. His hands gradually slipped beneath the satin of her dress and glided around to her stomach.

"Vulpes..." she said, although whether it was a warning or an invitation wasn't clear.

"Use me, Courier," he purred in her ear, his hands slowly moving upwards. His hot lips brushed against the side of her neck. "Let me be your eyes and ears here." He nibbled her shoulder. "Let me be your knife in the dark. Let me strike at your enemies," he whispered and caught her breasts.

The Courier's head swam and her heart pounded loudly in her ears. It was hard to think straight with his hands fondling her and his hungry kisses on her neck. Was he really suggesting that he work for her? That he trade Caesar for her? A sharp nip on her shoulder instantly cleared her head and she turned to face him. The intense look of desire on Vulpes' face was both frightening and thrilling to the Courier.

Before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed him and pulled him in for a desperate kiss, pausing long enough to pant, "I... hate you..."

Vulpes darkly chuckled, grazed his teeth against her throat and said, "I don't care."

Again they kissed when without warning she bit his bottom lip hard and drew blood, making him pull away suddenly. Vulpes smirked while the tip of his tongue prodded at his bleeding lip and he made a sound of approval.

There was fire in his eyes and he slammed his hips against hers, trapping her against the window. The Courier gasped and gave him a dark look of want that urged him on. He claimed her mouth with a possessive kiss while his hands raked over the thin spaghetti straps of her dress and pulled them free her shoulders causing her clothes to drop to the floor.

Pinning her shoulders against the glass, Vulpes leaned back to slowly take in the sight of her naked body. His insufferable smirk grew with every passing second, making the Courier squirm. She wished that he would just take her already as the needy ache she felt was growing unbearable.

Vulpes knew what he was doing to her though and lightly brushed his fingertips over one of her hardened nipples. It made her arch her back and moan, a reaction that Vulpes wanted to see more of. Once more falling to his knees before the Courier, Vulpes teasingly kissed her stomach, his tongue flicking over old scars. With each one, the Courier whimpered and pressed her thighs together to try and get some relief.

"Vulpes," she panted, practically begging for him to take her.

"If you'd been given to me," Vulpes quietly started before tonguing her bellybutton, "I would have carved my name into your flesh here," he dragged the tip of his tongue low across her belly.

The Courier's fingers gripped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging in and biting at his skin and she cried out.

Looking up at her, he could see the desperation she was feeling and he liked it. Giving her a cruel, superior look, he said, "Beg, Courier."

She blinked at him dumbly, struggling to comprehend what he was saying, but when it clicked, she scowled down at him.

Sensing that the Courier's defences were rising, he took one of her stockings off, again his fingers barely brushing against her skin. Once her thigh was revealed, he licked and nibbled the soft flesh there, slowly working his way upwards.

Throwing her head back the Courier loudly swore, "Fuck!"

"Only if you beg," Vulpes drily replied and stopped kissing her, fixing her with an expectant look.

The Courier looked him in the eye and swallowed her pride.

"Please Vulpes!" she breathlessly asked.

"Please what?" He asked, his hand now trailing up her thigh.

"Fuck me! Please!" she pleaded with a plaintive whine.

Growling, Vulpes suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Without another word between them, he carried her up the stairs. There was a feral, yet triumphant, grin on his lips.

Finally, Vulpes would have what he'd so long been denied.


	4. Chapter 4

The Courier blankly stared over the Mojave while stifling a yawn. Sipping on a strong black coffee, she tried to put thoughts of last night out of her head, but was failing. There were far more pressing things to take care of today and the last thing she needed were memories like _that_ distracting her. It seemed, however, that Vulpes and the things he'd done to her had taken root like a weed and were determined to stay. Sighing, the Courier stretched, wincing from the pull of sore muscles that served as a further reminder of what had transpired.

Scowling down into her coffee cup, the Courier sighed when she saw the finger marks on her forearms. She hadn't gone into it blind; she knew that he would be a vicious lover. Bites, scratches, and bruises were his love tokens to her, although 'love' was far too strong a word. The night had dragged on and on, Courier often found herself precariously balanced between pain and pleasure. While he whispered not so sweet nothings to her, the Courier became fully aware just how obsessed with her Vulpes had become.

Vulpes had also been nearly insatiable.

Every time the Courier had dared to start drifting off to sleep, she would be woken by his insistent hands and needy kisses all over her body. In the heat of the moment she had found it exhilarating and would once more give herself over to him. Now in the cold light of day, the Courier loathed herself and her wantonness of the previous evening made her stomach turn.

It wasn't until the break of dawn when both of them were breathless, sweat-drenched wrecks that he'd finally wrapped a possessive arm around the Courier and practically passed out from exhaustion.

For a while the Courier lay there watching him sleep, wondering what kind of man he would have become if he'd never been a part of the Legion. Would he have been a quiet soul who was content with his lot in life? Perhaps he would have a wife and child? Maybe, though, Vulpes had always had a cruel streak and that was how Caesar turned him into the twisted monster that he was. Try as she might, the Courier couldn't imagine him any different to how she knew him and that made her heart break a bit for him.

After that, the Courier had slowly escaped from Vulpes' grasp so as not to wake him and disappeared into the bathroom to take a very long, hot bath. She felt filthy and no amount of scrubbing seemed to change that. Letting Vulpes have his way with her had been her choice, she knew that, but it had been tantamount to handling a rattlesnake and then being shocked when it bit her and filled her with poison.

Unwilling to think too much about this new black mark on her soul, the Courier sat in the bath, drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly as she thought Vulpes' offer through. Last night when he suggested that she might have use of him, she couldn't deny that the idea had appealed. He would be her own private assassin, punishing those who would dare challenge her authority on the Strip. Undoubtedly he was very good at what he did, but the question remained as to whether she'd actually be able to rein him in if she needed to.

In spite of her doubts, the Courier rather foolishly hoped that buried deep within Vulpes there was a kernel of humanity left. And, perhaps even more foolishly, had thought that she might be the one to find that shred of decency and salvage it.

By mid morning, there would be no deluding herself any further.

Tired and lost in thought, the Courier was unaware that she was no longer alone.

"You weren't there when I woke," Vulpes murmured into her hair while his hands found their way beneath her t-shirt. There was something in his voice that was less disappointed lover than irritated stalker which chilled the Courier to the bone. He kissed and nipped the exposed nape of the Courier's neck. "I wanted you," he breathed.

Closing her eyes and biting her lip, the Courier silently cursed herself. She hated Vulpes and everything he stood for yet a single touch from him made fire pool in her belly.

It also made the Courier hate herself all that much more.

"Stop it. I'm not in the mood," she scolded and tried to move away, but Vulpes held her tight.

Before the Courier knew it, Vulpes' hand travelled down her stomach and nimbly unfastened the buttons on her jeans before dipping his fingers into her and the wetness he found there. His other hand grabbed her breast and harshly tweaked her nipple.

"Oh Courier..." he purred. "You're lying," he cruelly laughed in her ear and tickled at her, drawing an unwitting moan from her.

"I said no!" she shouted and suddenly turned on him, shoving him away with all her might. Glowering at him she held up an admonishing finger and growled, "No!"

Taunting her, Vulpes slowly licked his fingers, darkly chuckling, "You taste _so_ sweet."

Again she felt the maddening ache of desire build again alongside the disgust she felt for herself and Vulpes.

At a loss for words, the Courier wrinkled her nose and flatly said, "I cannot have you here. You have to leave."

Bemused by her, Vulpes sat on the sofa, stretching his arms along the back of it and gave her an insufferably smug look.

"And tell me why I should leave, Courier?" he asked, still grinning at her.

The Courier could feel her blood boiling by this point. "Do you really think I can have you hanging around me like a bad smell? What do you think everyone would say when word got out, huh? The woman who got rid of the Legion just happens to have one of the bastards working for her! It's ridiculous! I can't have you here because of what you stand for!"

Vulpes said with a faraway look in his eyes as he stared off into the distance before quietly saying, "Caesar is dead. It is a waste of my abilities to continue to fight for what is rotting in the ground."

For a long while the Courier just stared at Vulpes trying to figure out what might be going on in his head, but knew it was a fruitless venture. Throwing her hands up in exasperation, the Courier said, "No, you have to leave. If you stay it's only a matter of time before someone out there recognizes you."

Vulpes almost looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, "There's no reason why anyone should be aware of my presence here." His smile turned mischievous and he added, "I'd be your dirty little secret."

"Dirty little secrets turn into big fucking messes, Vulpes," the Courier shot back. "My position here is iffy at best. I can't do anything to make the families doubt me. You really don't understand the situation here."

At this, any semblance of being calm and relaxed left Vulpes as he leapt to his feet before stalking over to the Courier. He didn't touch her, but he leaned down so his face was nearly touching hers and said in a low, deadly voice, "Do I look _stupid_ to you? Why do you insist on speaking to me as if I were a slow child?"

Now he moved to murmur into her ear, "You tell me that I know nothing of this place, but I suspect I know far more than you. I know that for all their fancy dress and masks, the White Gloves are never more than a step away from going feral and with the right encouragement, they will. I also know that the Omertas are forever plotting against you, claiming that you are merely an inconvenience. And your precious, charming Chairmen? I know that they think you're a joke."

The Courier took a shuffling step back from Vulpes and he couldn't help but delight in the indignant hurt he saw in her eyes.

"This is why you need me, Courier. You need someone to do your dirty work." Without warning Vulpes grabbed the Courier by the scruff of the neck, making her yelp, and pushed her towards the window. With a sweeping gesture he motioned towards the Strip below them. "You need someone who can strike fear into their hearts! Without fear, they will not respect you. Without respect, you lose your power."

Grabbing her shoulders, he whirled her around to look at him and he said, "Imagine what we could do here together!"

The fevered gleam in Vulpes' eyes and the wild grin once more reminded the Courier just how unstable he was. Shrugging and brushing his hands away, she quietly said, "I know about the bodies."

Vulpes' smile faltered for a moment before his usual cool, unreadable mask fell into place.

"They weren't worthy of you," he said and tried to grab her hands in his, but the Courier pulled them back and stepped away from him, only for Vulpes to follow. He sneered, "I watched them... pawing you, slavering like starving men at a feast and wanting nothing more than to rut like the animals they were."

The Courier let out a derisive snort, crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, not quite able to believe what she was hearing.

"You do realize that you've just described your behaviour last night, right?" she pointedly asked.

"No!" Vulpes snapped and once more he grabbed for her hands and started to kiss them, muttering as he did so. "No, no, no, no... you don't understand. To them you were simply another conquest!"

"Stop..." the Courier said, once more trying to get her hands loose from his clammy grasp, but Vulpes grip only grew tighter.

"You're so much more... oh Courier...," he breathed, turning her hands over to kiss her palms. "The Son of Mars was _nothing_ compared to you. How could he stand against the might of Minerva!"

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about?" asked a horrified Courier who was completely ignorant of Roman mythology.

Finally he let her hands go, but then grabbed her head, pulling her close and emphatically hissed, "They were _not worthy_! They never could worship you like I do! You are Minerva risen, goddess of war and wisdom!"

There was an agonizingly long moment where their eyes locked, Vulpes' looking overly bright and outright insane while the Courier's looked decidedly worried. Could he even really believe these things about her? Of course he'd had almost a whole year to become fixated on her and rebuild his destroyed beliefs around her instead of Caesar. But if the conviction with which he spoke was any indication, he very much believed it to be true.

Eventually she reached up and wrapped her hands around Vulpes' wrists and quietly said, "There's a Brahmin waiting outside the Freeside gates. It is loaded with food, clothing, weaponry, money and other supplies for you." The Courier paused to watch his reaction. The wild look was starting to leave and was now being replaced by wariness and the Courier was able to pry his fingers off of her head and move them down to her shoulders.

"Why would I want your filthy Brahmin?" he slowly asked, his hands falling from her shoulders.

Firmly the Courier said, "You must leave the Mojave. I don't care where you go, but I do not want you here. If I find out that you've not left or that you're causing problems, I swear I will hunt you down like a diseased animal and put you down. Is that clear?"

There was a tense silence and Vulpes' face turned bright red before he let out a jagged, broken glass laugh. "But... you can't do that," he said, the strain of trying to remain calm evident in his voice.

"I can and I am, Vulpes," the Courier said, matter-of-factly.

Vulpes suddenly looked utterly lost as he gazed around the room, his mouth wordlessly opening and closing. How could she do this to him? Hadn't he just told her that he worshipped her? Hadn't he shown her that last night? He'd sworn himself to her, to be hers by day to command as she wished. All he wanted in return was for her to give herself to him come the evening.

He ran a shaking hand through his shaggy hair, remembering that once upon a time he'd kept it cropped short.

"And where would you have me go?" he asked, a tremor in his voice, his eyes almost pleading with her to let him stay.

The Courier, never truly a hard-hearted woman, felt a pang of pity for him. Although, that she could still find it in her to feel something other than hatred for him meant it was mixed with a healthy dose of self-loathing.

Sighing, she shrugged and said, "I don't care where you go Vulpes. Go start a big horner ranch somewhere. Head to the plains and become a hermit. Just..." The Courier paused and sighed. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she quietly added, "I can't believe I'm going to even suggest this because I know I'll fucking regret it in the long run."

The Courier went to a nearby desk and rummaged around in a drawer until she found what she was looking for and went to Vulpes.

"Return to Arizona," she said solemnly. "There is a steady stream of people coming in from Phoenix every damned day trying to escape the fighting that's started there. It's falling apart without a leader." She took his hand and pressed an aureus into it. "Take your throne as Caesar, as is your right."

Vulpes stared at the coin in his hand, the visage of Caesar face up. The Courier was, of course, right. With Caesar gone and Lanius dead, Vulpes was next in the chain of command. Perhaps at the time if he hadn't been so set on revenge he would have realized his luck and done exactly what the Courier had just suggested. He could have bided his time, built his forces and eventually returned to the Mojave and exacted his punishment upon the Courier, taking her as his wife - _his property_ \- whether she wanted it or not.

But he didn't want to be Caesar. He didn't want to become the ruler of a crumbling empire.

What he wanted most was standing before him.

And he couldn't have her.

Clenching the aureus in his hand, Vulpes fought against the flood of dark thoughts that now raced through is mind. Fury filled every inch of him, and at first it almost frightened him, but he soon remembered how he used to always feel that way. Vulpes remembered how he loved the rush of blood to the head, how he almost tingled with the anticipation of lashing out and acting on the violence that filled his heart. But he also savoured holding back, not giving in to it. There was something incredibly satisfying in being the coiled spring always ready to snap, but never quite letting go.

It was this place that he went to now and he pocketed the aureus.

"Perhaps you have a point, Courier," Vulpes said, turning to face her.

The Courier took a step back. Something had changed, but what exactly she didn't know. Whatever it was filled the air with and electric tension and the Courier had a sickening, sinking feeling.

"O-of course I do," she said and nervously tapped her foot.

"There's only one problem," Vulpes said with a tight-lipped smile, closed the gap between himself and the Courier and lightly ran his fingertips along her throat. He could feel her pulse racing and his smile grew. "Do you know what that problem might be?"

"No," the Courier said and turned her head away, although she stood her ground.

"Hmn. Of course you don't," he softly replied. "The problem is that I have no intention of leaving."

By the time the Courier saw the gleam in his eyes, it was too late. Vulpes struck lightning fast and seized her throat with both hands, squeezing with all his might.

The Courier flailed, clawing at Vulpes' face and drawing blood, but he didn't care.

"You could have had everything, Courier! Everything! I was yours to do with as you wished and yet you chose to discard me!" Vulpes whispered to her in an eerily calm voice.

Blackness was already creeping into the edges of the Courier's vision and in a desperate bid to get loose she brought her knee up into Vulpes' groin. The reaction was instantaneous and he practically flung her away.

"You bitch!" he groaned and doubled over.

The Courier drew in a ragged breath and started coughing. Reaching into her boot she grabbed the knife she kept sheathed there before manically crawling towards the stairs to try and escape. She was halfway there before she felt his hands on her ankles, pulling her back towards him. Jerking one leg free, the Courier kicked out and connected with Vulpes' jaw, stunning him long enough to free her other leg and start for the stairs again.

Just as she was about to get to her feet, Vulpes made another dive for her and knocked her to the floor. Not wasting a moment, he roughly flipped her over and pinned her to the ground. With one hand he tightly gripped her wrists, holding them above her head and sat squarely on her thighs, effectively immobilizing her.

Laughing, he whacked her wrists against the tiled floor sending a shockwave of agony through her forearms and forcing her to release her grip on the knife.

"Oh Courier," he panted while picking up the weapon with his free hand. "Did you really think I didn't know about this?" he asked and waved it in front of her face, making her flinch. "Were you not listening when I told you that I've been watching you all this time? I know your little secrets!"

Smiling, he ran the blade along the Courier's cheek, lightly scoring it. Blood welled from the cut before trickling down. Entranced, he watched it slowly roll along until he couldn't resist any further and licked it away. Vulpes shuddered with perverse delight and released a quivering breath.

Terrified, he Courier finally broke with a sob and whimpered, "Please... please don't do this."

Letting out a disappointed huff, Vulpes' head dropped to her chest before he started nuzzling at her breasts and said, "Why did you have to ruin it? You've ruined everything now. I never imagined that you would actually plead for your life like some pathetic weakling."

Sitting up a bit, Vulpes pressed the tip of the blade against his bottom lip and cocked his head pensively towards the Courier and asked, "What shall we do to try and remedy this? If you are so quick to beg for mercy, perhaps I should give you a reason to?"

Struck dumb with fear, the Courier's mind whirled, trying to find a way out of her current predicament. If she could get the knife off of him, she'd plunge it in his heart, but she couldn't imagine that he'd give it up without a fight. Besides, she was obviously not in much of a position to do that at the moment. The bare bones of an idea begin to form in her mind, as distasteful as it was, but she had to regain the upper hand if she were to come out of this alive.

Shoving the fear she felt aside, the Courier simpered at Vulpes and writhed beneath him.

"Well done, Vulpes," she said in a husky voice and arched her back. "You've proven yourself worthy."

The sudden shift in the Courier's demeanour instantly made Vulpes wary and he pressed the blade to the Courier's throat and growled, "What are you talking about?"

"Ah!" the Courier squeaked when she felt the blade start to bite into her flesh, but she bit her lip and chuckled darkly while regarding him through half-lidded eyes. "I had to test you, didn't I? How was I to know whether you would be truly loyal to me? If you'd agreed to leave, then I would have known I couldn't have really trusted you."

Nervously licking his lips, Vulpes was in two minds as to whether or not to believe her. For one second, he increased the pressure of the knife against her throat as a voice in the back of his mind urged him to finish her. But here she was, undulating beneath him, looking at him adoringly and praising him for refusing to leave. It surely was a trick...

"Why should _I_ trust _you_?" he cautiously asked.

"Last night should be proof enough for you," she replied. "I could have called for help. Hell, I could have killed you in your sleep if I wanted and yet here you are. Holding a knife to my throat. That's making wonder if I made the right choice," she admonished.

There was a tense moment where Vulpes vacillated between killing the Courier or letting her live. For over a year now she'd been a source of daily torment that made him want to possess her and also punish her for all she'd done. All he had to do was draw the blade against her throat and he could be free of her. His hand shook, the knife wavered and he finally threw it across the room.

But he still hadn't released her.

Instead the hand that had been holding the knife was working its way beneath her shirt, making the Courier squirm uncomfortably, which only egged him on. Gradually he shifted, forcing one of his knees between the Courier's thighs and groaned as he ground against her hip making her fully aware of his arousal. At the very least he finally let her wrists go and the pins and needles sensation in her hands started to fade, but it was cold comfort in the light of the fact that that hand was making a bee line for her jeans. His tongue flicked at her earlobe before he nipped at it causing the Courier to spontaneously gasp. Rough hands grabbed her legs spreading them wider so he could drive his hips against her.

She didn't want this though, and the moment she felt his hand slipping into her pants, she started to protest.

"Vulpes, no," she said firmly, but it went ignored and any further complaint was silenced by a hard kiss.

The weight of him on top of her, the feel of his hands on her skin and his tongue invading her mouth was more than she could stand. It made her feel as though she were suffocating. Lashing out, the Courier kicked, struggled and pushed at him but it only made Vulpes more insistent, if not irritated, by her fighting him.

Vulpes, however, was caught completely off guard when the Courier sharply slapped her palms against his ears. There was a sudden burst of pain followed by ringing in his ears and dizziness. Disoriented, Vulpes rolled off the Courier, shaking his head. Feeling something warm and wet trickling down his neck, he reached up to find what it might be and discovered both of his ears were bleeding.

Taking her chance, the Courier jumped to her feet and started running full tilt for the gun cabinet where she kept her weapons. Adrenaline had given her tunnel vision and the only thing she could focus on was getting to the cabinet. It had also made her oblivious to the furious ranting of Vulpes who was hot on her trail.

She was very nearly there, just a few feet away, when she was stopped dead in her tracks by Vulpes grabbing a fist full of her hair, making her howl in agony and making tears run down her cheeks.

"Let me go you fucking asshole!" she shouted, grabbing onto the nearest object that she could use as a weapon against him. With all her might, she swung it around. There was a brief moment when she saw the shock on Vulpes' face. There was a resounding hollow clang as Lanius' helmet smashed into the side of Vulpes' head and he crumpled to the floor.

Laying there, he looked up at the Courier and started laughing maniacally.

"D-do you think... you can kill me, Courier?" he wheezed.

In that moment, something deep inside the Courier broke. Letting out an animalistic scream, the Courier fell upon him, raising the heavy helmet above her head and brought it down on Vulpes' face over and over again. He was dead by the third blow, but she was so caught up in her own rage she didn't care. All she wanted was to make him pay for what he'd done. Blood and bone and eventually brains splattered everywhere, covering the Courier with gore.

It was only once she was utterly exhausted that she let the helmet go and, when she realized what she'd done, she desperately backed away from Vulpes' corpse, pressing her back against the nearest wall. She stared blankly at where Vulpes' head used to be and felt sick, but she just couldn't look away.

Hours passed and the numbness she'd felt earlier was starting to lift, not that it necessarily made her feel better. While she'd been sitting there, the Courier had tried to sift through and sort out exactly what she was feeling, but none of it made sense.

Vulpes had been a vile, detestable man who had caused no end of pain and suffering for God only knew how many people, never mind what he'd done to her. She hated Vulpes, that was a given.

What was so confusing, however, was that there was a part of her that actually felt sad that he was dead and she couldn't even begin to understand why.

Slowly she got to her feet, ignoring the tired ache of all her limbs that made her want to do nothing more than remain where she was, and went to the terminal. She leaned against it to steady herself and smiled wanly at the memory of her first time in this place. It seemed so long ago now. She was no longer the same woman she'd been back then and that thought nearly brought her to tears.

Sighing, the Courier typed in a few commands into the console, her finger hesitating over the enter key. She was reluctant to summon Yes Man as she always felt uncomfortable with the AI, but who else could she turn to now?

"Yes Man," she quietly said. "I think I need some help."

**Epilogue**

In the weeks that followed, the Courier started to rule Vegas with an iron fist, bearing down on the three families and letting it be known that she would not tolerate any sedition from them. She personally had visited each casino and its respective head to make her position clear. When there were rumbles of their displeasure, the Courier called their bluff. In a move that not even Mr. House had dared make, she ordered Securitrons into the casinos. They stood guard, silently watching and serving as a reminder of who truly owned New Vegas.

It had also been noted that while the Courier had once gone about her business on the Strip confidently and usually unarmed. Now she now seemed tense, constantly looking as though she expected to be attacked at any moment. Once where she'd been unarmed, she now brazenly carried her weapons with her, and even went as far as refusing to relinquish them at the casinos. Gradually, however, the Courier was seen less and less out in the open and before long, not at all.

The Courier now remained within the walls of the Lucky 38, but she hardly felt safe or comfortable there now. Victor was her constant companion, always no more than a shout away. She had ordered Securitrons to patrol every floor and Yes Man had been given explicit instructions that he was to constantly monitor every inch of the Lucky 38, day and night. In fact, the Courier had been so terrified of anyone else slipping through that she had rescinded her order to Yes Man that he was never to occupy the terminal in the penthouse.

For months the Courier lived like a recluse, locked away from the world.

But she was a wanderer at heart and eventually she couldn't stand it anymore.

Desperate, the Courier slung her battered knapsack over her shoulder and headed out of the Lucky 38 and the Strip, disappearing into the night, never to return.


End file.
